Seiii itone 



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[jiHik • t09 ^ssi- 

Coipglil X" /f^/^ 

coi^VRicirr i)i:posit. 



Semitones 



By 

A. A. C. 



Brentano's 

1907 



lliBriARY of CONeREis* 
f Two Copies Received 

CUS8 /\ XXc, Wo. 






Copyright, 1906 
By The CHELTENHAM Press 



Arranged and Printed at 

The Cheltenham Press 

New York 



I 



To Edmund Clarence Stedman 

Poet Philosopher and Man of Letters 

This Little Volume is Inscribed 

By The Author 



Author's Note 

The lines entitled October Days appeared in the year 1867. 

The sonnet, Beata Beatrix, was published in 1904. The 
other verses contained in this volume are now printed for the 
first time. 



PRELUDE 



Words are the organ-stops whereon 

The rhythmic songs of life are played. 
Ere yet the faltering hands are stayed. 

The key-board closed, the player gone. 

It is so far from thought to word 
That half the image is unseen. 

And half the harmony unheard. 

So much there is that lies between. 

Not by the outer ear alone. 

Some finer hearing may descry 
The hidden melodies that lie 

Between the tone and semitone. 



This edition consists of 500 copies printed on 
Japanese hand-made paper. 



CONTENTS 



PRELUDE 

INTRODUCTION 

SONNET Warmed by the Soft Sicilian Skies 

<' The Music Ceased 

" At Daybreak 

*' Beata Beatrix 

** The Days that Were 

<' Atlantis 

'* Oblivion 

** Caprice 

" The Dancing Bear 

" The Headless Statue 
LOVE IS ONLY A MEMORY 
THE DREAM 

INTERLUDE If Words are only Empty Sound 

TRIOLET In December 

♦' Regret 

" A Stray Glance 

« Until Death do Us Part 



I 

2 

3 
4 
5 
6 

7 
g 

9 
lo 
II 

IS 
ai 

as 
29 

30 
31 
32 



CONTENTS— Continued 

PAGE 

INTERLUDE I Worship what You might have Been 35 

LYRIC Love comes not to Thy Call 39 

" Thy Mouth is the Rosebud's Hue 40 

INSUFFICIENCY 41 

LOVE COMES BUT ONCE 42 

DESERET 43 

SONG Thy Voice is in the Whispering Wind 44 

" Something there was of Sorrow 46 

SERENADE 47 

INTERLUDE We Pay the Price for all We Gain 51 

THE NIGHT COMETH 53 

AD ASTRA 54 

IT IS QUITE EASY TO BE WISE 55 

IF I CAME BACK 56 

THE GARDEN 57 

PERVERSITY 58 

REJOICE AND COMPLAIN NOT 59 

THE BLIND VIOLINIST 60 

THE FIRST KISS 61 

THERE ARE NO FETTERS FOR THE MIND 6a 

ACROSS THE DINNER TABLE 63 

IN AUTUMN 64 

INTERLUDE We cannot keep what We have Won 67 

X 



CONTENTS— Continued 

PAGE 

PARLOR AND GARRET 71 

ANTHEM 73 

KING FOR A DAY 75 

REQUIEM ^TERNAM 76 

THE GATES OF SLEEP 77 

LA JOIE FAIT PEUR 78 

CARPE DIEM 79 

WITH THE CAMELS 80 

THREE SCORE AND TEN 82 

COMPENSATION 83 

WITHIN THY BREAST 84 

BE MERCIFUL 85 

THE THREE CLOWNS 86 

OCTOBER DAYS 87 

BALLADE 88 

PARAPHRASES To Whom it may Concern 93 

" La Vie 94 

THE BALLAD OF ROSE MARY 97 

TO F. A. C. 105 



SEMITONES 



Who ranks the least in love^ s degree 
Can best intone the songs of love y 
As blind men in dark places move 

More readily than those who see. 

They stumble not, nor do they touch 

The stones that bruise our laggard feet; 
But we have knozvn life'^s bitter-sweet 

And lived in love'' s clear light too much. 



SONNETS 



INTRODUCTION 



T IKE as a mother finding all forlorn 
■*-^ Her truant children, bounteously kind. 
Knowing their faults — yet willing to be blind— 
And to what imperfection they were born. 
Opens her arms to shelter them from scorn. 
So these, the errant children of my mind, 
I gather tenderly and fain would bind 
My life with theirs till both shall be outworn. 

You, my first-born, along what perilous ways. 
And far, you went ere you came here to rest ! 
And there be even those who deem you dull 
My Benjamin, deserving only praise; 
And you, perhaps of all, I love the best 
Because no other finds you beautiful. 



I. 



\ X 7ARMED by the soft Sicilian skies that shine 

' ~ Where the Madonian hillsides, drawing near. 
Slope to the sea, or else descending sheer 
By steep and devious footway and incline. 
Fall to the faery vale of Proserpine, 
Faunus, reclining, piped unto my ear 
The reedy songs that serpents rise to hear. 
Half hid in tangled greenery and vine. 

Sudden a figure — solemn, filleted. 
Finger on lip as if to stay my breath — 
Parted the almond-blossoms and there stood 
Oak-crowned, outlined against the dusky wood; 
And when, half welcoming, some word I said 
The answer came, ** I am not Love, but Death." 



II. 



'T^HE music ceased ; the songs of life and cheer 

■^ Were stilled; the reed went rattling to the ground; 
Beyond the fountain, momently, the sound 
Of fleeing goat-feet clattered loud and clear. 
And I, with one whom all these creatures fear. 
Alone remained: the very air around 
Partook of silence; I, no longer bound 
By Pan's enchantment, saw the mien severe ; 
Said to the presence, ** Since thou art not Love 
Leave me in peace." — **Aye, to the very end 
Shall peace be thine; no more Love's torment now 
Will trouble thee, nor any passion move." 
So hearing this, I said, ** Come nearer, friend. 
And let me feel thy touch upon my brow." 



AT DAYBREAK 

'¥ T THEN the gray dawn was deepening into red, 

~ ~ Above the hills a slowly widening zone. 
Just at the hour when earth is most alone, 
My lost love came and stood beside my bed ; 
Pearl white her pinions, arching overhead. 
And in her eyes such soft compassion shone 
That all my sorrows lifted and were gone. 

** I am God's handmaiden now," I thought she said, 

**And minister to them that once I knew;" 

** O why are you so kind to me ? " I spoke; 

** Have you not grieved enough ? " she made reply. 

And then a great peace filled me through and through; 

She leaning forward, I, poor fool, awoke 

And saw the red light flaming in the sky. 



BEATA BEATRIX 

T T 70ULD it were true that we shall live again 

" To walk in gardens where no grief may go, 
And only gladness through life's stream shall flow. 
After this comedy of ruth and pain; 
My eyes look out, beyond the mist and rain. 
To those far fells whereon the gods bestow 
Such grace as lesser beings may not know; 
There would I journey were it not in vain. 

Ah, then what joy that final cup to drink. 
Borne by the angel that Rossetti drew! 
So might I find thee, by some river's brink. 
Gathering those deathless flowers that never grew 
In our dark world, or anywhere, I think. 
Save in our dreams — I would that it were true! 



THE DAYS THAT WERE 

'nr^HE days that were before I saw thy face, 

"^ How distant and how shadowy they seem! 
Like the bewildered vision of a dream 
They came, they were, they vanished into space; 
Yet now I know that each day had its place 
In Life's economy, a thought supreme, 
A lovely variant of a lovely theme. 

They were not wasted; these I now retrace 
Hid in the arras hanging in thy room; 
Birds, flowers, tombs, Graces, figures manifold 
Woven of those departed days long gone; 
And these are radiant tissues from the loom. 
Fit for thy starry garments; this the gold 
And Tyrian for thy feet to tread upon. 



ATLANTIS 



'ITT HO has not seen it, high in heaven set. 

Cutting the skies in lines as clearly drawn 
As when, from Bordighera's grove at dawn. 
Far Corsica is seen in silhouette ! 
Vision of purple cloud and parapet ; 
Look well upon it ere the light be gone. 
For there thy dearest hope is held in pawn ; 
It is the palace of thine own regret. 

There is the land that lured thee to delight. 
Stretching away beyond those luminous spires; 
Enchanted river, wood and waterfall. 
All vanishing upon the verge of night: 
Behold the home of all thy lost desires! 
Look upon Lethe flowing by the wall! 



OBLIVION 



/^OULD Love abide, apportioned to our need, 
^^ And all his bounty to our race inure. 
Peopled by Love with all things bright and pure. 
Could Love abide, then earth were heaven indeed. 
And yet, when Love's companion. Death, we heed 
No more we seek to know if Love be sure. 
But, rather, ask could we this world endure 
With Love and Death to be our daily meed ? 

Alas, poor Love! a thousand lowly mounds 
On every hillside mark his sure decay; 
The day declines; the air is dark and chill; 
Through tower and tomb the winter wind resounds; 
By household fires how many hearts are gay. 
Unmindful of the slowly darkening hill! 



CAPRICE 



Tj^ ASY it was to love in the old days. 

When, for a silken girdle or a glove. 
Men moved on earth as constellations move 
In the great field of heaven before our gaze. 
Dauntless they rode along disputed ways 
And couched at night, content for very love. 
On the bare ground with the cold sky above ; 
Careless were they alike of blame or praise. 

But now what hapless circumstance is mine! 
Frowns are my arrows, glances are my spears. 
And I oppose them with a shield of glass; 
Oppressed by fashion of these later years 
I see my lady in her carriage pass. 
Further from me than tented Palestine. 



THE DANCING BEAR 

/CHAINED in a brewer's vat, the wretched beast 
. ^^ Feels underneath a slow illumined fire; 
Now lifts one foot and then another higher. 
His body swaying with the flames increased; 
Enlivens merrily a village feast 
Where gaping rustics gather to admire; 
Until, with muttering and moaning dire. 
He learns, at last, to dance — that knew it least. 

And, later, in the pleasant country lanes. 
The music pulsing in the summer air. 
The merry children thronging in the place 
Remind him of that furnace of despair; 
So, to the poet, a memory remains. 
As if the tears were rolling down his face. 



THE HEADLESS STATUE 

TN some forgotten Alp or Apennine 

•*' There is a winding road — the only door 

Into a valley, like a level floor. 

Circled about with cypress and with pine. 

There, in a garden, at the day's decline, 

I sat upon a marble bench before 

A headless statue, twined with hellebore. 

Ancient as Bacchus and his wreathed vine. 

'Tis Pan, with ready fingers poised above. 
Holding a flute where once his lips had been. 
But silent now, since all his song must die 
With lack of breath to utter — Ah, my love ! 
How can I breathe the song that is within ? 
How can I voice the heart's most bitter cry ? 



LOVE IS ONLY A MEMORY 

''Perhaps we are led and our loves are fated. 
And our steps are counted one by one ; 
Perhaps we shall meet and our souls be mated. 
After the burnt-out sun." 

Edwin Markham 

The Homing Heart 



LOVE IS ONLY A MEMORY 



Just one picture hung in the room 
The saddest story that art can tell; " 

T. B. Aldrich. 

OO long, so long ago 

^^ It was, they could not know 

In what forgotten clime 

Their hearts were tuned in time ; 

By what cerulean sea 

They beat in harmony. 

The half, each single soul. 

Of one perfected whole. 

So far apart they went 
They could not be content. 
The while, from world to world. 
Their sundered souls were whirled: 
Though Time, in mercy, cast 
A veil upon the past. 
Still, as the ages grew. 
Something their spirits knew ; 
Something of their old love 
Shone on them from above ; 



They heard incessantly 
The sound of that great sea ; 
Their souls within them burned. 
Nor knew for what they yearned. 

Again, by some strange chance 
Or sport of circumstance. 
Again upon this earth 
Their spirits had their birth; 
Again she came to him; 
Just at the outer rim 
Their circles touched — small blame 
If both broke into flame ! 

Sinful it was we know. 
For ihe wise world said so; 
And so thought one who sent 
Both to their banishment. 
And bade the lovers hark 
Back to the primal dark. 

Grim Florentine, who stood 
With Virgil in the wood 
And on Hell's murky throat 
Your fateful legend wrote ! 



i6 



Who, peering through the g 
Saw Farinata's tomb. 
And saw, as in a glass, 
The murdered lovers pass. 
Could not your wit devise 
Some greater sacrifice ? 

Behold their punishment! 
His eyes on her are bent. 
His arms about her thrown. 
She is not there alone; 
And he can see and hear 
All that to him is dear ; 
While on them from above 
Still shines immortal love. 



17 



THE DREAM 



THE DREAM 



T KNEW it was a dream — and yet 
-"- My feet upon that path I set. 
And followed on that winding way 
Down to the very end of day. 
Down through the ever deepening wood 
I followed far until I stood 
Where no one ever stood before ; 
Above me, in the sycamore. 
The wood-owl whimpered plaintively; 
Dark water to my foot was nigh; 
It was the same, that sullen stream. 
And yet — I knew it was a dream. 

On, on into the night I went 
Until my store of strength was spent; 
And all the bitterness, the care. 
The wretchedness of life was there; 
No hope was in me to withstand 
The horror of that lonely land. 



21 



Sudden, a dwelling to my sight 
With open door was all alight; 
There was a supper-table spread. 
The guests were seated — at the head 
Were you who are my heart's despair. 
And by your side an empty chair ; 
Your eyes embraced me at the door, 
**Ah why did you not come before? " 

To me, your smile was heaven's bright beam. 
And yet — I knew it was a dream. 



INTERLUDE 



TF words are only empty sound 
-^ What profit lies in songs like these ? 

Tet we have seen the Pleiades 
In pools of water on the ground : 

Ory peering in a little glass 

No greater than a handbreadth wide^ 
Beheld the lordly planets pass 

That sway the seasons and the tide. 

All that 1 am or hope to be 
I strove in singing to rehearse^ 
And found it in a single verse 

That holds the Pagan world — and thee. 



^S 



TRIOLETS 



; 



IN DECEMBER 



TT is June when my lady goes by, 

-^ With the sweep of her gown and her grace; 

Though the calendar's there to deny. 

It is June when my lady goes by ; 
For the warmth of the earth and the sky 

With her coming is full in my face ; 
It is June when my lady goes by. 

With the sweep of her gown and her grace. 



29 



REGRET 



T T 7HEN Doubt came in at the door 

Then Love flew out at the grating; 
But he turned for a look once more 
(When Doubt came in at the door) 
At the firehght on the floor 

And the warm little corner waiting; 
When Doubt came in at the door 

And Love flew out at the grating. 



30 



A STRAY GLANCE 



T T was only a look she gave 
•^ And a strain of music dying 
Like the sound of an ebbing wave; 
It was only a look she gave — 
But we carry such to the grave 

In pay for a life's denying; 
It was only a look she gave 

And a strain of music dying. 



UNTIL DEATH DO US PART 



TT was hardly worth while to say it, 

So soon was the word forsworn; 
With a priest and a ring to stay it. 
It was hardly worth while to say it; 
Since love and the doubt to slay it 

Of the same desire are born. 
It was hardly worth while to say it. 

So soon was the word forsworn. 



32 



INTERLUDE 



T WORSHIP what you might have bee?i; 
-'• I know it is not what you are. 
For you were like a failing star, 
A moment glorious — then unseen. 

All men must lose what most they prize; 

There is no permanency here; 

Only a memory and a tear 
And splendor failing from the skies. 



35 



LYRICS 



SONG 



T OVE comes not to thy call, 
-■-^ And stays not for thy word; 
His vagrant footsteps fall 
Unseen, unheard. 

I whispered Love to stay 

A little while, a breath. 
E'en though the lingering day 

Be one with Death. 



39 



LYRIC 



' I ^HY mouth is the rosebud's hue; 

Thy cheek is the eglantine; 
Thine eyes are the tender blue 
Of the lotus-flower divine. 

Bloom of the East and West 
God gave thee for thine own. 

And hid, in thy flowery breast, 
Instead of a heart — a stone. 



40 



INSUFFICIENCY 

V 

00 many things I longed to say 

To her who is my heart's delight, 

1 said them over day by day, 

I held them in my mind at night. 

But, when at last the moment came 

That I so long had wished might come. 

Before Love's burning altar-flame 

My tongue was mute, my lips were dumb. 



41 



LOVE COMES BUT ONCE ^ 

/^NCE, and once only, will you greet 
^■^ The guest you have so longed to seej 
Mind that the room be swept and sweet 
With lavender and rosemary. 

Once, and once only, will you hear 

At break of day that low, clear call; 
Awake! Awake! for Love is near. 

He brings his bounty to your wall. 
He brings the dawn, he brings the dew. 

He bids you open wide the gate; 
Be it with heartsease or with rue 

Say never that Love came too late. 

Once, and once only, will you greet 
The guest you have so longed to see; 

Mind that the room be swept and sweet 
With lavender and rosemary. 



42 



DESERET 



XT'^U are my blessing and my woe, 

''• My honey-bee with sweet and sting; 
Among my flowers you come and go 
And set the winds a wondering; 

For you, more mutable than they. 

Flit Hke a firefly in the night; 
Among my flowers you will not stay. 

Your very beauty is your blight. 

Let someone spread, as someone will. 
Enough of gold before your eyes 

And you would leave Hymettus' hill 
To follow carrion with the flies. 



43 



SONG 



' I ^HY voice is in the whispering wind. 

Thy breath is in the breeze; 
Thy dwelHng-place I may not find 

Among the murmuring trees; 
On earth I know not where thou art. 
Save in the longing of my heart. 

And when to heaven I lift my eyes 

Among the stars above, 
I cannot find thee in the skies. 

Thou art not there, my love; 
In truth I know not where thou art. 
Save in the longing of my heart. 



44 



TWO SONGS FOR MUSIC 

Written for E. E. 



SONG 



SOMETHING there was of sorrow. 

Something there was of wrong. 
And all was wrought in sadness 

Into a httle song. 
Something there was of longing, 

Something there was of woe. 
And all was bound in melody 

A hundred years ago. 

Something there is of darkness. 

Veiling a deeper dream 
Of long-remembered music 

Heard in the twilight gleam : 
I wonder who is singing. 

And how she came to know 
That someone was heart-broken 

A hundred years ago ? 



46 



II 

SERENADE 



l^ARK lies your scented garden 

That blossoms red and white. 
Faint with the breath of roses. 
Wet with the dews of night. 

No flower falls from your window. 
For me no light will shine; 
The gods of life's undoing 
Took care of yours and mine. 

And only in your slumber. 
Where we alone may meet. 
Across the fields of Dreamland 
I come to you, my Sweet. 



47 



INTERLUDE 



T/jy^E pay the price for what we gain; 
Nothing is given y all is bought, 
Andy at the barrier of thought y 
Our gold is balanced y grain for grain. 

Fory when the nightingale sings best 

And all the darkling hedgerows hear. 

It is a thorn against his breast 

That makes the tone so liquid clear. 

True art is sorrow crowned with art; 
He pays who y for a little fame y 
Hearing at last the loud acclaimy 

Hides from the world a broken heart. 



THE NIGHT COMETH 

TT7HEN I shall be among the wise. 

With one thought folded in my breast, 
A brother to the Centuries, 
I shall not know you when you pass. 
Nor feel your footfall on the grass. 

O tell me now, while I may hear. 

And heal my hurt and give me rest; 
Speak to me now, the dusk is near. 
Speak to me, dearest, ere the night 
Shall blot you from my mind and sight. 



53 



AD ASTRA 



O O bitter is the bread I eat, 

^^ So close my life runs to the lees. 

That I would be a child, my Sweet, 

And weep my heart out at thy knees. 

Yet do I honor thee no less 

To be thy lover, though as far 

As Hagar in the wilderness 

And thou as distant as a star. 



54 



IT IS QUITE EASY TO BE WISE 

'TpHE word is passed, the seal is set, 

■*" I must not love you any more; 
We now have only to forget 

And all will be as once before. 

It is quite easy to be wise 

And lay our memories to rest. 

But who can say they will not rise 
Like odors from a sandal chest 

That lies in some neglected room. 
With brazen lock securely fast. 

All redolent with faint perfume 

To make us mindful of the past. 



55 



IF I CAME BACK 

TF I came back at the dead of night 

"^ And pillowed my head where once it lay. 

Would you welcome me with the old delight. 

In the same fond words you were wont to say? 
Or flee from my arms in sheer affright ? 

When the dying day and the darkness blend. 
If I came back from my lowly bed. 

How would our greeting begin or end ? 
**Love me forever,'* of old you said. 

So tell me, which would it be, my friend ? 



56 



THE GARDEN 



'TpHY heart is like a garden close, 

-*' With butterfly and floweret gay^ 
Wherein narcissus and the rose 

And pansies vie in sweet array. 

And there do Joy and Grief abide. 

Thy gardeners; the sun and rain. 

Joint almoners with wind and tide. 

Do bring thy pleasure and thy pain. 

If I may only look therein. 

Or lean a moment on the wall, 

I am more blest than I had been 

With angels in their heavenly hall. 



57 



PERVERSITY 

(Dolores Sings) 

T T E whom I love with all my mind, 
■*■ "■' To me is hardly more than kind. 
Because his recreant soul is set 
Upon a faithless, cold coquette. 

And she will scarcely look his way. 
But seeks another soul to sway; 
Yet is her wish in vain — this one, 
Alas! has eyes for me alone. 



58 



REJOICE AND COMPLAIN NOT 

XT'OU love her with your heart and mind; 

With others she is frank and gay. 
Familiar, open as the day; 
To you alone she seems unkind. 
Reserved and distant, disindined 
To smile, or even look your way; 
For, womanlike, she long has known 
How close your thought is to her own. 
And, womanlike, she will not care 
To let her own eyes linger where 
Your eyes like burning stars are set: 
Fool ! would you wish her to forget ? 



59 



THE BLIND VIOLINIST 

TT7HO taught thee that mysterious smile? 
Whence came that wondrous tone ? 
**I saw thee, dear, a little while 
Ere yet the day had flown.*' 

Some in the sunshine lose their sight. 
And some with tears and pain; 

Some look their last on all delight 
And never see again. 



60 



THE FIRST KISS 



TAROP, on this fallen clay, 

^^ The tear thou wouldst not shed; 

Unto this dull ear say 

The word before unsaid. 

Leave to their silence now 

The lips thou wouldst not press. 
And on this passive brow 

Let fall thy first caress. 



6i 



THERE ARE NO FETTERS FOR THE MIND 

'T^HERE are no manacles to bind 

■^ My thought of thee; no axe to kill; 
No chains, no fetters for the mind. 

And I may worship where I will. 

So, while by day and day apart 

We drink of bitterness our fill. 

In the rose-chamber of my heart 

I may embrace and love thee still. 



62 



ACROSS THE DINNER TABLE 



'T^HY face in tangled hair is set, 
(So sits the spider in his net.) 



Thine eyes invite the soul's desire, 
(So burns the opal's baleful fire.) 

Lithe art thou in thy silken sheen 
As the green serpent in his green. 

Not with an appetite more nice 
Amina picked her grains of rice, 

Ere, from her lips with languorous breath, 
Her lover drank the dews of death. 



63 



IN AUTUMN 



'T'HE red sun, like a scimitar. 
Hangs in the darlcening sky; 
And the sounds of earth are hushed and far, 
As they will be when we die. 

Wind-swept the boundless plain below. 

The bare boughs overhead. 
And the whirling leaves that come and go 

As they will when we are dead. 

I, sunk with unremembered men. 

You, in your marble pride. 
What will we be to each other then — 

Who have already died ? 



INTERLUDE 



T/f/^E cannot keep what we have won; 
^'^ Relentless to the end we move ; 

The noblest work, the purest love. 
Must die with the decadent sun. 

The radiance falling from afar. 

To shine on worlds already dead. 
Is tinctured with the baleful red 

That marks the cooling of a star. 

jEons are but a little span ; 

The worst will soon be as the best ; 

The plummet swings from east to west. 
All — all must end as it began. 

So little hope, so little trust! 

Yet is my flower of life decreed 

To bloom for thee, in thought and deed. 

Until we mingle with the dust. 



67 



PARLOR AND GARRET 

"AX/^OEVER feels that he would not like to 

^ ^ think out to the end every thought that 

comes into his mind should turn away from art. 

He who would be an artist must melt 

down everything." 

— George Moore. 



PARLOR AND GARRET 

'T^HE Pharisee is smug and clean, 

■*• He thinks the thoughts that others think 
And does the things that others do; 
His neighbor's path he follows through. 
Stops at his neighbor's well to drink; 
All his imagining is mean. 
No room is in his narrow creed 
For nature; he, with all his kind. 
In every parlor in the land. 
Hate what they do not understand. 
Unto the inner light are blind, 
Are envious in thought and deed. 

In poverty, unkempt and wild, 

Uncomprehended, slighted, blamed. 

The artist with his own thought stays 

And gives the world an answering gaze. 

As innocent and unashamed 

In spirit as a little child. 

From his own thought he cannot shrink. 

All things are tribute to his art. 

No fear is his, no Httleness, 

The truth he labors to express; 

Fidelity is in his heart. 

And faith is more than meat and drink. 



71 



Rather would I be one of these 
To live away from all my kind. 
And season with salt tears my bread. 
Having no place to lay my head. 
Yet hold Truth's image in my mind. 
Than dwell among the Pharisees. 



^^ 



y^NTHEM 



Oh! that I knew where I might Ji?id Him ! ' ' 

— Book of Job. 

'T'HINE ear is deaf; no errant word, 

■"^ In all the ages that are gone. 
Of all our praying hast Thou heard; 
Of all our mournful cries, not one. 

Thy lips are dumb; no voice of Thine 
The endless, envious years have known; 
Unto our sight has come no sign. 
Unto our waiting ears no tone. 

Thine anthem priest and pagan sing; 
They gather round Thine altar-flame; 
They worship, to whose worshiping 
No benediction ever came. 

They name with awe Thy dread abode; 
Thy dwelling they decree so far 
That all must perish by the road 
In Thought that leaps from star to star. 



73 



ANTIPHONE 

They search too far who seek Thee there. 
When Thou art near in flower and sheaf; 

Thou art the answer and the prayer, 
Ahke believer and belief. 



74 



KING FOR A DAY 



'^T 7HO, down this busy street 

In glittering pomp and pride. 
With tramp of horse's feet 

Comes in such state to ride ? 

One who, erewhile unknown 

On some small errand bent. 

Along this road, alone. 

Unnoticed came and went. 

But now men stand apart 

To give his chariot room; 

The carter turns his cart. 

The weaver quits his loom; 

And children leave their play 
To see the splendor pass. 

With plumes of black and gray 
And panoply of glass. 

So, lest our common clay 

Lack all ennobling. 
Death, for a single day. 

Makes every man a king. 



75 



REQUIEM ^TERNAM 

T ET this be graven on the tomb, 
-"-^ That they may learn who loved thee best, 
** Whoever to this place may come. 

Lord, give them an eternal rest." 

Let not their naked souls be blown 

By winds that wander in the dark. 

Nor yet from shore to shore unknown 
Be borne by Charon in his bark. 

But let the kindly earth enfold 

All that was born at Earth's behest. 

And, best of all Thy hand can hold. 
Lord, give them an eternal rest. 



76 



THE GATES OF SLEEP 



A LL day those portals shine afar, 
■^^^ They glisten in the sun; 
An angel sets the door ajar 

When the long day is done. 

Silver and gray his vestments are. 
And, with unerring hand. 

He leads us where a single star 
Lights all the solemn land. 

The dwellers in that star-lit space 
Are not the friends we see. 

But those who, with averted face. 
Departed silently. 

Angel of night lead on apace. 
The doors of Sleep unbar. 

And guide me to that trysting-place 
Lit by a single star. 



77 



LA JOIE FAIT PEUR 



T fear no enemy's device; 

-*- No harm can reach my soul's retreat; 

Nor loneliness, nor sacrifice 

Can turn my purpose to defear. 

I know that death is but a call 

Back to the place from whence we came; 

There is no future to appall. 

No circle of eternal flame; 

I fear not fate, for I am made 

Of sterner stuff than those who quail — 

But, at the touch of joy I bleed. 

With happiness I faint and fail. 

When comfort comes I am afraid. 

Ah, then I am a coward indeed! 



78 



CARPE DIEM 



'TpHREE things I would not know 

The day when I shall go 
Unheralded, alone. 
Into the All Unknown; 

Nor where, by land or sea. 
My level bed shall be; 
Nor what my Love will do 
When I with life am through. 



79 



WITH THE CAMELS 



\ BROAD, in the misty city, 
•*■ The great gray houses loom; 
Over the roofs of London 
I see them from my room. 

Over the roofs of London 

I see the fine rain fall. 

And my eyes turn from the window 

To a picture on the wall. 

My eyes turn from the window. 
And the sky is warm and blue 
Clear to the edge of the desert 
Where the caravan came through. 

Clear to the edge of the desert 
Stretches the sunlit sky. 
Over the sands of Asia 
As the camel train goes by. 



80 



Over the sands of Asia 
The wandering tribesmen fare. 
Each on the back of his camel. 
Rugged and brown and bare; 

Each on the back of his camel. 
Muffled and gaunt and grim. 
They dream of the palm tree growing 
On the desert's utmost rim; 

They dream of the palm tree growing 
Where the waters leap and flow — 
Over the roofs of London 
The river is dark and low; 

Over the roofs of London 
There is only grime and gloom. 
But we are afar where the camels are. 
The star-spring and the bloom! 



gi 



THREE SCORE AND TEN 



'T^HE ruined roof is prone to fall, 

•'^ Where built the swallows long before: 
The gate hangs rusty on the wall; 

The path is grass-grown to the door. 

Gray lichens moulder in the place 

Where once the honeysuckle grew; 

Gone is the glamour — gone the grace; 

The Old remains to mock the New. 

Time works his pleasure, good or ill; 

He touches part, but not the whole; 
Lo, from the crumbling casement, still 

Looks out the indomitable soul! 



82 



COMPENSATION 



\r 



npO all sad souls who walk with Truth, 

Knowing the world rewards not well 
Artist or singer, age or youth, 

A voice comes ringing like a bell. 

Across the interminable years 

It sounds from Weimar's lonely towers, 
**Who never ate his bread with tears. 

He knows you not, ye heavenly powers!" 

The giant hand that writ the word 
Long since has fallen to decay; 

That mighty heart, with passion stirred. 
At last ''compounded is with clay;" 

But what shall quench the voice that said, 

**Who never, through the wakeful hours 
Of night, sat weeping on his bed. 

He knows you not, ye heavenly powers!" 



83 



WITHIN THY BREAST 

TTNWEARIED through the dust and din, 
^^ And through the day that Hinds us all. 
The sturdy laborer within 

Taps with his hammer on the wall. 

The night is made for rest and peace, 

The laborer should slumber long; 

And will thy knocking never cease, 

Now sounding low, now sounding strong! 

And must thou labor night and day? 

Who bids thee toil so late my friend? 
<'My workshop is this wall of clay, 

'Tis my own coffin I must mend." 



BE YE THEREFORE MERCIFUL 

O O rudely into being thrust, 

^^ We know not whence we come nor why; 

A little dew above the dust; 

A little fragrance ere we die. 

How scant the blossoms that we cull! 

Even our joys are pitiful; 

We dance, we sing, and over all 

Projects the shadow of the pall. 

In silk attire we are at ease 

Because some others toil and sweat; 

We do not sleep but one of these 

Keeps watch, whose eyes with tears are wetj 

We do not eat but some brute life 

Is bludgeoned into endless night; 

Oh, is there not enough of strife. 

Enough of pain, enough of blight ? 

Or, is the world no longer young 

And Love no better than a name. 

That one should steal the serpent's tongue 

To blast another soul to shame ? 



8S 



THREE CLOWNS AND A NIGHTINGALE 

'T^HREE clowns, a bird imprisoning, 
■■• Tried, each in turn, to make it sing. 

The first, withholding drink and food. 
Left it to pine in solitude. 

The second pinched and hurt the bird; 
But still no note of song was heard. 

The third clown sat beneath a tree; 
**ril bide my time, sweet bird," quoth he: 

Ere long the night was in the sky 
And the forest rang with melody. 



86 



OCTOBER DAYS 

/^ rare October days! Ye leave your strange 
^^^ Foreshades of tilings ideal everywhere: 
Autumnal glory crowns the mountain range; 

Autumnal rapture floods the tranced air: 
Steeped in a golden languor sleeps the sky. 

As sinks the drowsy sun into his rest. 
Where burning clouds in crimson masses lie 

Athwart the glowing portal of the West. 

The waning sunshine softens over all; 

Unto the music of sweet-voiced rills 
Enchanted lights and shadows rise and fall 

Within the charmed circle of the hills: 
The hazy wold a magic vision seems; 

The far-off heights a fairy glamour take; 
And distant headlands, dim as Summer dreams, 

Immerge their purple shadows in the lake. 

From the brown stubble-fields on either side 

Is heard the mellow piping of the quail; 
And, from an opal sky faint-flushed and wide. 

The Hunter's moon looks down, serene and pale: 
On steeps remote the parting sunbeams rest; 

Illusive shapes the bosky hollows fill; 
Then twilight shades the quiet glens invest. 

And all is dim, and mystical, and still. 



87 



BALLADE 



T N what domain of earth or sky 

-*• Are you whom I have found so fair ? 

Whose perfect grace my lines imply; 

Whose loveliness is my despair; 

To what dim court shall I repair. 
With sonnet, song and roundelay. 

To charm your footstep to the stair ? 
I do not know — I cannot say. 

What wondrous lights and shadows lie 

In Isabella's auburn hair! 
(Her mouth is just a bit awry;) 

Clarice is blithe and debonair, 
(To hear her voice I hardly care;) 
Estella has your eyes of gray, 

(How came her nose so tipped in air ?) 
I do not know — I cannot say. 

Sweet Alice renders sigh for sigh. 

Her smile is fitted to ensnare; 
She holds her gown a trifle high. 

Her ankle — well, that's her affair! 

But, on a crowded thoroughfare 
In crossing on a windy day, 

I fear there's nothing much to spare 
I do not know — I cannot say. 



U ENVOI 

Your colors in my casque I wear, 
I will adore you while I may; 

Dear Goddess, are you anywhere ? 
I do not know — I cannot say. 



89 



PARAPHRASES 



TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN 

From the French of Alfred De Musset 

"!V /TY sisters, in grace and guile, 
•^^ One fatal gift you share; 

To entrance Man with a smile 
And delude him to despair. 

A laugh we can hardly hear; 

A look, an unspoken word. 
When one who loves you is near. 

May cut his heart like a sword. 

He turns away his head 

And hides the wound in his breast : 
Yet, truly, when all is said, 

I count his part the best. 

He turns his face aside. 

But his is the nobler part; 

Better the martyr's pride 

Than the headsman's habile art! 



93 



LA VIE 



From the Fre?ich 

T TOW vain the comedy of life! 
■■■ -'■A little hate, a little strife; 
A look uplifted to the sky, 
A laugh, a bow, and then — good-by. 

How brief the spell that holds us here! 

A little hope, a little fear; 

A little love, a little light, 

A wish outworn, and then — good-night. 



94 



THE BALLAD OF ROSE MARY 



THE BALLAD OF ROSE MARY 

I 

TN heaven a calm, clear night befell, 
-^ A time of stars on high. 
And all the prisoners in hell. 
Each from his horror haunted cell. 
Looked out upon the sky. 

Then, chief among the sounds of pain 

And songs of sacrifice. 
One soul took up the old refrain, 
«*0 send me back to earth again," 
Above all bitter cries. 

"When I was wed with bell and ring 
My heart by man was won, 
I loved not God nor anything 
But him who was my lord and king. 
For this I am undone." 

"Because I loved not God alone 
My soul is cast aside; 
How could I be in love with one 
Whose presence I had never known. 
Or be a spirit bride ? ' ' 



97 



**I loved the thing He sent to prove 

My faith, and set apart; 
I held it all the world above, 
I gave it all my human love. 

And hugged it to my heart.'* 

**For this I am in bitter woe 

And live in endless pain; 
Ah, that an angel vv^ould bestow 
One gift of heaven and let me go 

Back to the earth again!" 

*'My body lies beneath a stone. 
By death yet undefiled; 
The sorrow is not all my own. 
Those that I love are left alone. 

My husband and my child." 

*'A twelve-month more has passed away 
With Winter, Summer, Spring, 
Soon comes again the boreal day 
And the wind that smote me where I lay 
And left them sorrowing." 



98 



*At morn he leaves his lonely bed 

To labor with his hands; 
The wind beats down upon his head. 
Yet must another mouth be fed 

With harvest from the lands." 

*I hear the farm-latch click at night, 

I see the cattle come; 
And, in the mellow evening light 
The swallows circle in their flight 

Round what was once our home.' 

*He lifts the latch — the fire is dead. 

Upon the hearth no spark; 
No flame to make the rafters red. 
There is no supper table spread. 
And all the house is dark." 

*The rats run riot in the gloom. 

They clatter in the hall; 
His refuge is a lonely room 
That needs a basin and a broom. 
And needs me most of all." 

LOfC. 



99 



'Ah, once I was his hands and feet. 

His lamp, his light, his life! 
His wine to drink, his bread to eat; 
Behold him maimed and incomplete, 
A man without a wife!" 

*The young, warm body that I had 
Lies stiff beneath a stone; 

My limbs in cerements now are clad; 

Be merciful lest I go mad 

And perish here alone." 

High o'er the dreadful towers of hell. 

Only the cruel stars 
Give ear unto the souls that dwell. 
Each in his separate sunken cell. 

Pent in by prison bars. 

For the plague of hell, the bitterness. 
Is not of fire and chains; 

The spirit knows its own distress. 

Is eaten up with loneliness. 

And nothing more remains. 



II 



Once in a year, it is decreed. 

An angel of the Lord 
Comes down from heaven to intercede 
And stand before hell's gate and read 

Some sanctifying word. 

Then Satan, with high courtesy 

And chivalrous intent. 
Deigns, with a mock humihty, 
A single spirit to set free 

From hell's environment. 

So when the angel came again 

And stood with drooping wings; 

He heard the piteous refrain 

And begged the soul's release from pain 
Above all other things. 

Her body lay beneath a stone 

By death yet undefiled; 
No ghastly change her flesh had known. 
Her face had even lovelier grown 

As if she slept and smiled. 



The name they gave her at her birth 

Was graven on the stone; 
Ah, faithless one, how little worth 
To love her when she was on earth 
And not when she was gone! 

She did not dream — she could not know 

A thought so fugitive. 
For she was one of those who grow 
To love us when we are laid low. 

As well as when we live. 

The calm, the cruel stars looked out 

On field and farm and fold; 
The pump was frozen at the spout. 
The watch-dog dragged his chain about 
And whimpered with the cold. 

Not with the savor of decay. 

As other forms have come. 
But fresh as on her wedding day 
Rose Mary came along the way 
To what was once her home. 



Her heart, ah, who can tell how glad. 

How firm it was, how brave! 
In her own raiment she was clad. 
The warm, sweet body that she had 
Was risen from the grave. 

How grateful after long exile. 

How glad we cannot know. 
But round her lips the spirit smile 
Caressed her mouth and eyes, the while. 

As in the ground below. 

There stood the farm before her sight. 

The roofs all round about; 
The gates were wide, the rooms were bright. 
The windows cast great squares of light 

Upon the road without. 

Alas, for love and sacrifice 

In days that went before ! 
Quick terror was there, and surprise. 
But naught of kindness in the eyes 

That saw her at the door. 



Ah, that another should embrace 

The lips that once were hers! 
She saw the horror in his face. 
There was no welcome in that place 
For spirit trespassers. 

* * * 

Far better that the dead should sleep 
Through everlasting years; 

They cannot rise, the grave is deep; 

They do not know the faith we keep 
With hypocritic tears. 

When once the funeral bell is tolled 

No welcome waits above; 
If one were risen from the mold 
The man would come to claim his gold; 
The wife to claim her love. 



[04 



TO F. A. C. 



T WOULD these little songs of mine 
To some neglected land might be 
Borne, as upon an Indian sea. 
Not for the world's behoof, but thine. 

Borne to a land where we alone 

Might dwell on some forgotten shore. 
And only hear the ocean's roar 

And not the critic's caviling tone. 

Small then my audience, but rare. 

My frailest lines would bring delight. 
As dullard children, in the night. 

Are wrapped with tenderness and care. 



105 



APR 13 1907 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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